


Glitter and Gold

by Nellblazer



Category: American Gods (TV), Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Hellblazer
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Gods Fusion, Angst, Awkwardness, Banter, Bisexual John Constantine, Body Worship, Constantine is your ex, F/M, Flirting, Jack's Crocodile Bar, John Constantine Being an Asshole, Leprechauns, Magic, Pagan Gods, Papa Midnite is sort of your sugar daddy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: Receiving a call from Papa Midnite to help out with an unknown supernatural, you journey to Jack’s Crocodile Bar where you run into someone new....and someone you didn’t want to see.*Please do not replicate my work anywhere without my express permission*
Relationships: John Constantine/Reader, Mad Sweeney (American Gods)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66
Collections: DC Favorite Fics





	Glitter and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Commission piece for @dragonlover13hr
> 
> Warnings: Angst, death, smut, John being John
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- NB xx

You made some less than charitable comments when your phone went off at three in the morning.

Groping for it as it rang shrilly, you answered without looking at the screen with a bleary, “What do you want?”

“Hello to you too, my dear,” comes that deep smooth voice.

“Midnite? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Must have slipped my mind,” he chuckles. “I have a favour to request.”

“Of course you do.”

“You owe me from last time, girl. Erzulie rather liked being in your body.”

“Yeah well I didn't enjoy her hijacking it myself,” you reply acidly. “And that was your fault it happened.”

“What kind of magic user doesn't have protection against possession?”

“One that isn't expecting to be possessed.”

“Amateur.”

“Must be, clearly you don't need my help then. Good night-”

“-Wait!” he cries before you hang up. “I _do_ need your help.”

“What's in it for me?”

“I'll...I'll give you the Claíomh Solais.”

“I _knew_ you had it!” you sit bolt upright. “You lying sack of-”

“-Do you want it or not?”

“What's so bad that you need to tempt me with a god killing weapon?”

“I don't know and I don't like not knowing but it's killed a few of my followers. Get yourself to Illinois and a place called Jack's Crocodile Bar where my contact will meet you. My base is near Panther Creek.”

“Didn't peg you as hiding out in Illinois.”

“There are more supernaturals and magic users here than you think. Now, will you get on the plane as soon as possible?”

“With what money?”

There's a great sigh before your phone pings with a notification from your bank. You note he's dropped a _lot_ into your bank account.

“Thanks Papa,” you laugh in a flirtatious way.

“Sometimes I wonder why I keep bankrolling your little paranormal investigation business when I don't get anything out of it.”

“You set the terms. Your fault.”

“Yes, I see that now. Don't call me Papa again.”

“You don't like it?”

There's a pause on the line.

“Oh I see,” you grin. “You like it _a lot_. See you soon, Papa.”

“I swear, girl-”

But you hang up, booking your flight quickly and getting all your essentials packed. You fly out at six so there's not much point getting back to sleep. You just make your way to the airport and sit and read in the departure lounge for a while.

**

Illinois was not as warm as you expected it to be and once you'd gotten out of the cab, you regretted your choice of clothing, shivering a little.

Hauling into Jack's Crocodile Bar, you could tell something was off. Patrons weren't ordinary patrons and you got more than a whiff of magic when you walked in.

You were so distracted, you crashed into the back of someone as you turned around.

“Sorry!”

“My fault,” comes an Irish lilt. “I'm not easy to spot in a room.”

The sarcasm was evident, the guy was much taller than you were.

“Pleasant, are you?”

“So I've been told.”

You look up at the shock of ginger hair, the golden eyes and the half drunken swaying. He wasn't human but he wasn't registering much on the danger scale either.

“Well aren't you ten shades of gorgeous?” he gets a proper look at you, pursing his lips in appreciation. “Why don't you come give Ol' Sweeney some company tonight?”

“I have business, sorry big Red.”

You turn to go to the bar and you hear him inhale behind you before grabbing your wrist, stopping your progress.

“Why do you smell like a meadow after a rainstorm?” his pupils are blown wide. “I can even smell the wildflowers. It's like....home.”

“Tell me what you are and I'll tell you what I am,” you look him square in the eyes.

“Leprechaun,” he breathes, still panting heavily. “Now you, I know yer have magic but that scent is just....it's old. Are yah a god?”

“Priestess of one,” you smile. “Though he decided to go it alone for a while.”

“It's one a' mine, isn't it? The god, I mean? It's so familiar.”

“Cernunnos.”

“Well fuck, he must be desperate to let lasslin's like you worship him.”

“He's not as sexist as he used to be.”

“Clearly not. Well fuck me sideways, I didn't think there were any priestesses still around.”

“There aren't. Not a lot believe this days.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So you're a leprechaun but you were something more once, weren't you?”

“Aye. Suibhne is the old name. Sweeney for the cunts who can't pronounce it.”

“Oh you're _that_ Suibhne!” you gasp in realisation. “I've heard Cernunnos talking about you.”

“Probably nothin' good,” he ruffles his stuck up hair so it goes even wilder. “I'd like to talk more if yer don't mind. Not every day I find a priestess in Illinois.”

“Oh please, I'm nothing more than a paranormal investigator now,” you snort. “Thought I would put my skills to better use since I wasn't needed.”

“That's why yer came to this shithole?” he gestures around himself.

“Something like that.”

He pulls you closer, brawny fingers tracing along your back and you feel that same sense of power radiate from him that you used to get from Cernunnos. It was wild and untamed. It had been so long since you'd been surrounded by energy like that.

“Can I distract yer for a little while?” his mouth quirks up.

“Hoping to get some quick worship in?” you tease back.

“Wouldn't be quick with me,” he winks, his eyes becoming more golden. “I remember the old ways, the old rituals. Other gods might not give a fuck if yer have a good time but I do. It's as much as a worship of you as it is me.”

If you just tipped your head up, you'd be kissing him. Lost in his aura, you were oblivious to the tan nightmare that had just traipsed in, drenched from sudden rainfall and scowling.

It wasn't until he caught sight of you that your moment with Sweeney was broken.

“What the bloody fucking hell are _you_ doing here?!”

John Constantine.

“Never mind that, what are _you_ doing here?” you frown.

“Mind your own beeswax,” he huffs moodily before going to the bar.

“Want me to hit him?” Sweeney murmurs in your ear.

“No, I think he's the person I'm supposed to be meeting” you sigh. “Bad blood.”

“Long time rival? I can sense his black magic shit from here,” Sweeney wrinkles his nose.

“Worse,” you smirk. “My ex.”

“Come find me when the dust settles,” Sweeney squeezes your arm. “I'll be waiting, lasslin'.”

He leaves you to go back to his booth and now you have to be the bigger person and approach John. This was going to be fun.

“Don't tell me you're the contact I need to meet?” you sit on the stool next to him.

“Oh,” the realisation hits. “Ohhhhh. _That's_ why Midnite were so cagey about telling me who to look for. Seems he set us up.”

“Well, when it comes down to it, you and I, we're the best,” you order a drink.

“S'pose,” he mumbles, playing with the neck of his beer bottle uncomfortably. “God this stuff is like drinking piss.”

“Should I ask how you know what piss tastes like?”

“Ask your mother,” he hisses.

“Would if I knew who she was.”

You're not going to let him get away with being hostile to you. You didn't need this right now.

“Touché,” he coughs before turning to appraise you. “You're looking well, lass. Single life suits you.”

“Don't start. You left _me_ , remember?” you frown. “You don't get to compliment me any more.”

“I was an idiot for going,” he stares at the bar unit. “Some misguided sense of tryna keep everyone around me alive by not being in their lives. Look what it got me, Chas won't return my calls, Rich doesn't like me around his son and you....you hate me now.”

“Hate is a strong word. Pissed off, yes. It wasn't your decision to make and I was very upset for a long time, John. I don't open up to people easily and you threw that in my face.”

“Seemed to be opening up to the gigantic ginger over there pretty well,” John shoots Sweeney a nasty look.

“He's a god and he knew my former one. Not like you're allowed to be judgemental right now.”

“Right,” he necks some of the beer. “Because I'm a twat.”

“A _world_ class twat.”

“A world class twat.”

“Of the highest order.”

“Oh come on!”

“John,” you glare warningly.

“A world class twat of the highest order,” he concedes. “Thought about you all the time you know. Hovered over your number loads but never had the courage to dial. I guess......oh I don't know.”

“The word you're searching for is 'sorry' but if you can't muster that up, I'll be seeing Midnite alone,” you finish your drink. “Bye.”

You leave, storming out of the bar, past Sweeney who looks a little concerned for you and out into the parking lot. There you take a breath of the slightly chilly air watching it mist in front of you.

Catching an Uber to Panther Creek, you get out, walking towards the trees. From the highway, you must look like a colossal idiot marching in in summer clothes but once you got out of sight of the road, you bent down to the earth and began the words you haven't used in a long time.

“Cernunnos, guide my way. Lead me in your domain to my goal. I dedicate this to you.”

Stripping naked, you lie on the earth, letting it coat between your fingers and toes and feeling for your god's blessing. There's a tingling warmth that spreads from your chest and when you sit up, it's almost like a trail of light snaking off into the treeline.

You stand again, stretching out before hearing a wolf whistle behind you.

“Fuck me, I've missed that sight.”

“Give you memories, does it John?” you turn around, not caring what he sees.

“Let's just say you're my favourite fantasy when I'm alone,” he smirks. “But before your nipples become so hard they could cut diamonds, best put some clothes on, luv.”

“Oh, I'm 'luv' again, am I?”

His face falls when he realises you're still mad. He fiddles with the cuffs of his trenchcoat as you get dressed before coughing awkwardly.

“Yes?” you fold your arms.

“I'm sorry,” he says, loudly and clearly. “I were actually a horrible bastard to you and I've been kicking meself for it ever since. I were just scared of losing you but in the process of trying to keep you safe...I lost you.”

“What did I always used to say to you?”

“Live in the now?”

“Live in the now. Now come on, I've got a direct guide to Midnite.”

He follows you like a hurt puppy, not daring to speak unless you did first and you knew then he genuinely felt bad. If he was just paying lip service, he'd be more chatty.

Travelling along the line of light, you get deeper into the woods and night is setting in fast. You swear it was only a few minutes since the sun was shining and now twilight had set in. You were becoming cold and you could barely see anything that you were stepping on.

You stop for a moment, trying to get your bearings, only to startle slightly as something warm is placed around your shoulders.

“You're shivering, lass,” John says quietly. “Want me to get a fireball going?”

“Yeah,” you slip your arms through the sleeves and button the trenchcoat he'd given you.

You expected it to smell of cigarettes and the old cloying scent of whiskey but maybe you were misremembering because it smelled like cinnamon and ginger.

Unfortunately, just as you'd pulled the material up over your nose, John made fire appear and your little sentimentality didn't go unnoticed. He didn't comment though, merely smiled and waved his hand for you to get going again.

You're just about to step forward when you hear the sound of hooves gaining on you. You look around, scanning the horizon but the trees are so dense that it doesn't afford much visibility. There's also the sound of footsteps.

Bursting out into your little circle of light, Midnite in a torn silk shirt and one of his associates, running full pelt. Behind them, a figure riding a horse, only the rider was holding his dismembered head high above him whilst his cloak fanned out into the night. With a crack, a whip of what looked like a human spine felled the associate who howled as it wrapped around his neck. Then the rider disappeared into the trees again, dragging the man behind him.

“I see you got my message,” Midnite tries to compose himself as much as he can.

“What the fucking hell were that?!” John's wary, hands out ready in case it returns.

“I was hoping you'd tell me. I thought it was a simple headless horseman spirit but appears I was incorrect.”

“Not come across summat like that before. Lass? How about you?”

“Nope, not seen one before either. I think we should get out of the woods though. Can't research anything if I'm dead,” you're readying some spells in your own head.

“I need to return to my people. I was meant to be doing a supply run. Both of you, figure this out quickly. I can't lose anyone else. Ovince was a good man. Go before it returns. The road is north west. Here.”

He throws a compass at you and you use the luminescent hand to start moving quickly away. John's hot on your heels as you run through the undergrowth, shadows casting everything into deep relief and you almost trip over roots a few times.

The noise of hooves starts again and you're sprinting now, branches grabbing at you, nicking at your skin as you flee. You hear a thud behind you and turn around to see John sprawled on the ground some feet behind you. You try to get to him but the headless rider blocks your path.

“JUST RUN!” John yells. “GO! I'LL DISTRACT IT! GO!”

You trust he'll be okay and hare off but far from being distracted by John, it's coming after _you_.

You try trapping it in a mini tornado but it just saunters out casually before the whip catches you around the waist and drags you up towards the rider. The head seems to be eternally screaming as it flicks its gaze to you and the whip tightens. The vertebra would've cut into your skin if John's trenchcoat wasn't protecting you. He'd told you once it was soaked in magic.

You get such a scent of the same brand of aura that Sweeney had, that Cernunnos has before the whip coils even more.

When you hold your hand up to start a spell, the sound from the head finally breaks through and there's a horrendous screeching before you're dropped on the ground and the horse canters away, leaving you bewildered and bruised.

You don't question it, scrambling for Midnite's compass before barrelling out onto the highway again where you look around for any sign of John. You wait there, feeling more and more nervous until a pick up stops next to you and John pokes his head out of the window.

“Get in.”

You practically dive in as he speeds off.

“Where are we going then?” he asks, forgetting for a moment which side of the road to drive on before you adjusted the steering wheel for him.

“Back to the Crocodile Bar,” you announce.

“Oh?”

“I need to talk to Sweeney.”

“Oh.”

“Whatever that was, it came from our side of the pond. He might know more.” “Big ginge, it is.”

“You really don't like him, do you?”

“Only because he was almost in your knickers.”

“Would hate to see your reaction if you'd been a few minutes later then.”

John falls quiet at that.

“Oh come on. Not like you haven't fucked other people since you left,” you sigh, leaning back in the seat.

“Fair,” he gives you a sideways glance. “None a' them were as good though.” “What do you expect from a priestess of Cernunnos? Wild is in the title.”

“You're not kidding,” he laughs. “Remember that time we crashed the Stonehenge orgy?”

“I don't think those hippy kids were quite expecting our level of enthusiasm.”

“Good times,” he smiles to himself before pulling into the parking lot of the bar. “Come on then, let's talk to your Irish fancyman.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” you roll your eyes before walking back in.

Sweeney seems to have gone. You can't spot him anywhere.

“Oi, Jack. Where's big red gone?” John asks the owner.

“Oh he left about half an hour back. Won't be around until tomorrow.”

“Shit,” you hiss. “We need him now. Take the pick up and go to whatever store is nearest. Get fresh bread and cream. None of the low fat stuff. Whole cream, got it?”

“Are we having a picnic?” John wrinkles his nose in confusion.

“No, you cock, it's to summon Sweeney. Part of a prayer ritual for leprechauns.”

“Leprechauns? Is that what he is? Did someone feed him growth hormones?”

You just raise an eyebrow, “You more than anyone should know that legends and myths are never completely true.”

“Bread and cream it is,” he nods. “I'll need the coat back though. Got me wallet in it.”

You pass it back, a little sad that the cold is hitting your skin again but you slide off to the back rooms, knowing Jack is too busy to go back there right now. You needed a room with a good windowsill and you found one in the storage room.

Now you just had to sit back and wait for John to arrive.

**

“You sure this'll work?” John looks at your little shrine offering.

“Positive. Now I'd give it some space. Go back out into the bar for a while. I don't think the two of you bickering will do much good.”

“Who says there'll be bickering?”

“Well if he asks me for some worship in the traditional sense as a barter tool I doubt you'll want to stick around to see that.”

“Only if he covers himself in a sheet so I can only see you.”

“Get out, John,” you throw an errant bar towel at him.

“Alright alright,” he holds his hands up. “Just....if he does want a good bonking in exchange for information, keep the noises down or lie about how good it might be. Me ego is already battered.”

“So insecure,” you shake your head.

“You know me, luv,” he shrugs. “I talk a good game but I'm an anxious mess.”

He leaves the room but morbid curiosity pulled him to go out and around the bar to the window. He knew he shouldn't and he knew it'd probably kill him inside but somehow not knowing what was going on was worse for him.

He really was sorry about what he did to you but he thought it was for the best at the time. Having Gabriel going after his remaining relatives made him fearful you'd be next, though he'd never have told you the extent of the danger you were in. It was better you remained ignorant and thought that he was just a colossal arsehole.

He waits and waits, wondering if the big ginger bastard was going to turn up but when he saw the store room door open and the enormous shadow in the doorway, he knew he shouldn't have doubted you. You'd been in this game as long as he had, after all.

John couldn't quite hear the conversation unless he pressed his face to the window pane but he wasn't about to expose himself as a peeping Tom for the privilege. Instead he just concentrated hard, catching snippets from Sweeney like,

“....Appreciate the effort....Not the only culture to have headless riders.....gold on you.....prayed to me....change gods.....I think you know what I want....”

He could practically see the glowing radiance of Sweeney's skin. Poor bloke probably hadn't been worshipped in a long time and the difference was astonishing. John wasn't that much into redheaded men but he was seeing the appeal now.

It was almost a perverse thrill when the two of you started kissing with a heat that he recognised as one of those moods where you got particularly worked up. He used to love those moods.

You almost had a race to see who could strip the fastest and John's pride took a dent at seeing the size of what was dangling between Sweeney's legs before he reminded himself that gods were a bit different from mortals and he shouldn't compare himself. Still......blimey....

Watching on, Sweeney dropped to his knees, pushing you to sit on an upturned wine barrel before his head disappeared between your thighs. Within moments your head was lolling back, mouth falling open.

Guess Sweeney's worship wasn't that selfish and he was quite the giver.

It all made John's cock uncomfortably hard and pressed against the corner of the window that he was, it was rubbing slightly against the wall. He wanted so badly to reach down and scratch the itch but if somebody found him out here...

When he glanced back up, it was almost as if Sweeney had moved you to a position where you could be seen easier. Instead of having your back facing the window, now your front was and John could see just how much you were enjoying it.

_Shit, he knows I'm watching._

It became evident that the giant leprechaun was fully aware of John's presence when, just as you came with a back arching cry, he looked out of the window and winked. John couldn't tear his eyes away though.

As Sweeney slid his thick cock into you, kissing you deeply, the urge finally broke John and his hand delved into his own trousers.

He'd never witnessed a god and a priestess together and he felt ashamed that he found it so erotic but something about the way you both seemed to glitter with golden light as Sweeney ruts brashly into you, it was almost like he was possessed with the same wild spirit.

With a shout that could be heard through the window, Sweeney reaches his end and so does John outside, freeing his cock at the last second to spill against the wall. Then it was like the fog cleared and he hurriedly tucked himself away before darting back into the main bar and ordering a drink quickly so it didn't look like he'd been anywhere.

Eventually you and Sweeney came out.

“So, what is stalking Midnite's camp?” John asks nonchalantly.

“A Dullahan apparently,” you pat your hair down but the gleaming glow is still evident on your skin. “That's why it left me alone when I stuck my hand up near it. See? Gold rings. They hate gold.”

“Spirit?” John asks.

“Fae,” Sweeney answers. “Some a' Crom Dubh's lot. Miserable cunts that died without honour in battle n' want to take other souls down with 'em.”

“How do we kill it then?”

“Good piece a' iron to destroy the head,” Sweeney shrugs his denim jacket back on. “But I'll be joinin' yer for yer second attempt. It can fixate on me all it likes but can't kill me. I'm not mortal. Plus....gold.”

To prove his point, he makes a shower of golden coins pour from one hand into the other.

“Alright, back to the Mystery Machine I guess,” John downs his drink before traipsing out to the pick up.

To say the journey back to Panther Creek was uncomfortable was an understatement. The seats may have been designed for three but they didn't bank on Sweeney's broadness and the fact that John likes to spread out a little when he drives. You're crammed in the middle trying to look like this was entirely normal.

Once at the highway again, John pulls off the road and takes the seatbelt off before a coin is thrown into his lap.

“For the Dullahan should it go after yer,” Sweeney points. “Call it a thank you for the extra worship.”

“What worship?” you ask.

“Oh he knows what I'm talking about,” Sweeney smirks.

“What did you do?” you look at John in confusion.

“Nothing,” John mumbles, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Don't be shy, mate,” Sweeney presses on. “He might have had a crafty wank to our display. The self love over a god is worship too.”

“So you were watching through the window then?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Are we hunting this thing or what?” John changes the subject, getting out and striding off into the trees.

“There's no shame in it,” Sweeney catches up.

“There's shame in you blabbing on about it though,” John mutters.

“Not many people are that receptive to rituals. Sure you weren't a priest of a god at some point?”

“I'm sure. I'm just magically sensitive.”

“Just plain old sensitive more like,” you catch up too. “Pervert.”

“Didn't hear you complaining about that fact before,” John glances sideways at you. “In fact you once told me it was nice having a bloke who could keep up.”

He puts on some speed because this was getting out of his comfort zone now. From behind him, he could hear the hushed whispers you were talking in with Sweeney.

“He's definitely still got a torch,” Sweeney snorts.

“Shut up.”

“And so have you.”

“Shut up!”

“It's adorable to see.”

“Suibhne, shut. up.”

“Only because you said my name so nicely.”

You all got further into the woods, John's fireball lighting your path as you listened out for the sound of hooves. It was almost eerily quiet.

John didn't like that at all. The anticipation was often worse than the fight.

Finally he heard it, thundering through the bracken and he pulled the old revolver out of his trenchcoat with the fae killing bullets. Sweeney wrinkled his nose in distaste at it but made no comment.

“Ready, lasslin'?” Sweeney asks. “Just like I told yer in the storage room. Ring a' gold.”

“Yep, ready. Ready to shoot it, John?”

“Probably not but we'll see how it goes,” John replies, checking the gun was loaded.

The rider appeared through a gap in the trees and you got behind it quickly, blocking the path with Sweeney's coins. Sweeney, in turn, started circling, sprinkling gold and dodging the spinal whip until the Dullahan was trapped.

“Do it quickly!” Sweeney shouts. “It won't be contained forever!”

Now was John's big moment to impress. He lined up the revolver and took his shot...missing wildly as the Dullahan yanked its head out of harms way.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” John snarls, letting off a barrage of bullets until finally, one hits home.

The head shrieks, the skin bubbling and giving off the scent of rotten cheese before the entire ensemble started dissolving into the ground, a great inky mess that seeps into the grass, killing the plant life immediately. Finally there was only a patch of dead earth remaining to mark the spot.

“Well that weren't so bad once we knew how to kill it,” John lets out a great puff of air.

“And thank you for the tip in the future,” Midnite's voice crawls out of the shadows as he appears from nowhere. “Very good work.”

“Aye and will you give us what you promised us now?” John puts the gun away because Sweeney is looking nervous around it.

“One Sword of Light for our lady friend here,” Midnite produces a blade that seems to emit bright daylight. “And John Dee's crystal ball for you, John.”

“Hey!” you frown. “You told me you didn't own that either!”

“Oops,” Midnite smirks. “Must've slipped my mind. I do have a large collection after all. Besides, you get enough of my funds as it is.”

John gives you a curious look but you don't give anything away in your gaze back.

“Oh she's not servicing me if that's what you think,” Midnite rolls his eyes. “I just fund her investigation firm so she'll keep doing me favours.”

“Investigation firm?” John blinks.

“I got busy after you left,” you shrug. “Well I need a good night's rest so shall we go back to the bar because I need about....five whiskeys before I settle down.”

“Fine by me,” Sweeney agrees.

“Off you go,” Midnite places a hand on your shoulder. “And next time, you're flying economy. I'm not made of money.”

“You and I both know that's not true....Papa.”

Midnite visibly shudders, his eyes going wide before he walks off into the gloom muttering about how you made it difficult to keep composed sometimes.

**

Back in the bar, Sweeney's off in the restroom and John takes the opportunity to talk to you.

“Listen, I'm sorry for peeping, I just....I miss you and that's not an excuse to be a gigantic pervert but I used to love hearing me name when you came and how desperately you fucked. Most of all though, luv, I just miss you.”

“I know you do,” you lean back against the bar. “And I asked Chas why you'd pushed me away whilst I was waiting for Sweeney and I get it now. Gabriel's a big hitter. Still, I wish you'd just talked to me.”

“I'm no good at relationships, you know that.”

“Doesn't mean you shouldn't make the effort to try and be better at them.”

“That's fair and well deserved. You are the only person I've ever thought I was doing okay at being the partner of....until I cocked it up. We had some good times right? We talked out all the little arguments?”

“Yeah, yeah we did. That was the most mature anyone's seen you,” you laugh. “You just need to communicate a bit more and not have such a martyr complex. You're allowed to be happy.”

“Aye, s'pose I am,” he smiles. “I really am sorry for everything.”

“I appreciate the apology.”

“This may be the drink talking so slap me if I'm being too bold but...I wanna kiss you.”

He was fully expecting to be rejected. He's treated you terribly and he didn't deserve any affection but when you moved in and placed a soft peck to his lips, his heart leapt. He didn't let you break away, not that you appeared to want to do so anyway but he deepened the kiss, so many memories in it and so much of his buried love that he repressed for a long while whilst apart from you.

“Nice to see my followers getting along,” Sweeney makes a good-natured comment as he passes.

“Sorry, what?” John pulls back. “What do you mean followers?”

“You gave me some worship, John. That means yer one of my followers. Lasslin' there is now _my_ full blown priestess for being intimate with me. Cernunnos lost a good'un there. His loss, my gain.”

“Did you know?” John looks at you.

“Yes,” you down the rest of your drink. “Fucking him broke the ties between me and Cernunnos because he'd already let me go in spirit.”

“So now you're a priestess of a leprechaun?”

“And you're about...oh....half a priest about now?” you try not to giggle. “You should've read your gods lore better. They're so starved for praise these days it doesn't take much to bond.”

“Shit!” John cries. “So I'm bound to big Red there?”

“A bit,” Sweeney quirks his mouth up. “I'll always know where yer are, what mood yer in, be at yer beck n' call if yah get me the right offerin'. The sex dreams though....I apologise in advance.”

“WHAT?!”

“You'll dream about Sweeney,” you're covering your mouth to stifle the laughter. “It's his way of farming worship from you. Since you jumped straight into being part of a sex ritual, the dreams will be sexual too.”

“Oh bloody hell,” John cards a hand through his hair. “This is not what I were expecting.”

“Nah it ain't all bad,” Sweeney rolls a coin over his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. “I'm one of the luckiest gods out there. Keep worshipping me n' everything will go right in whatever you do.”

When Sweeney put one of his broad hands on John's shoulders, the pull of attraction got worse. If there was any doubt that they were bonded, it was gone in that instant.

“And how do I keep worshipping you then?”

“Cream and bread works. Every day. Or....something more physical.”

“Like shagging you?”

“Could be,” Sweeney shrugs. “Or shagging my priestess n' dedicating it to me. Think she's just about forgiven yah.”

“Maybe,” you down another drink. “I think it's time I headed back. I'm in the Motel 6.”

“Me too,” John adds. “Want company?”

“Sure,” you get up, walking to the door before turning back. “And you can bring Sweeney too. Maybe _he_ can watch this time.”

“I'd forgotten how uninhibited she was,” John whistles as he watches you leave the bar.

“Aye, she's a wild one. Let's not keep her waitin', eh?”

“I don't usually do this sort of thing, you know,” John is still a little embarrassed.

“You'll learn to love me like yah do her in time. Just throw your notions of a traditional relationship outta the window n' you'll be fine.”

“You know I half expected you to be straight?”

“Been alive a long time,” Sweeney snorts. “Yer really think I haven't experimented a little? I only like the pretty boys though. Not into the meathead macho bastards.”

John is completely caught off guard when Sweeney bends down to kiss him, the beard a lot softer than he was expecting.

“Are you two coming or what?” you call through the door.

“Come on, let's go,” Sweeney laughs before leading John out, who's still in a daze.

As you all pile back into the pick up, John looks to you and Sweeney smiling warmly back at him and your words come back in full force.

“ _You're allowed to be happy.”_

And you know what? In that moment, he truly was happy. He had you back in his life, you seemed to have forgiven him and his sex life was going to get a whole lot more interesting because of what had happened tonight.

Lucky him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Storm & Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369104) by [Nellblazer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer)




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